Silence
by splishims
Summary: When a final confrontation results in a "kill-or-be-killed" situation, Conan makes his choice. But can he live with it?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Silence  
Author: splishims  
Fandom: Detective Conan

Character(s): Edogawa Conan/Kudo Shinichi, Kuroba Kaito/Kaitou Kid  
Word Count: 674  
Warnings: Death and blood?  
Disclaimer: I only own Detective Conan in my dreams…

The silence was deafening, more so than the thunderous gunshot that rang out only seconds before. Conan didn't hear the thump as Gin fell backwards stiffly, dead before he hit the ground. Pistol held tightly in his shaking grasp, he himself sank to his knees, eyes wide, unblinking. A burning lump formed in his throat, more painful than the bullets that had tore through his shoulder, thigh, and stomach earlier that very same night, and blocked out any sound that he might have made.

_I didn't want…_ Conan hadn't meant to kill the Black Organization operative. He had been trembling, blood loss, fear, and the need to survive combining to make it impossible for him to hold his hands steady, to aim for a nonlethal shot. In the end, he didn't know what made him pull the trigger, to let his finger twitch oh-so-slightly against the cool metal, sending the bullet rocketing into the man's chest.

The rooftop was still silent and the lump still in his throat as he sat frozen, gun still raised, finger inside the trigger guard, though not actually touching the cold metal. He still shook violently, eyes wide and burning. He'd expected his vision to blur for a moment, but instead everything seemed to become clearer, sharper.

The first sound he heard was the _whoosh_ to his side as air was displaced by a familiar white hang glider swooping low. Its operator landed in a run, slowing to a stop before disengaging his wings and turning to face Conan, who still hadn't moved. Then the white-clad figure set out towards Conan, walking slowly, unthreateningly, smiling shakily, worry and sympathy fading through the Poker Face.

The gun swung over to point at the thief, still shaking. _Oh, God, no,_ his mind screamed. He _knew_ this man! He couldn't shoot him! So then _why_ was he pointing the gun at him? He tried to lower his arms, but the gun remained trained unsteadily on the thief, who seemed strangely unconcerned. He pleaded silently for Kid to turn around, to leave before his finger twitched again, as his limbs were no longer under his logical mind's control. It was all a jumbled mess of pain, terror, panic, and a simple want for this all to be a dream. But still the Kaitou Kid kept walking.

Wide blue eyes, still unblinking, burning, _searing,_ glanced at the gun before turning back to the thief, pleading for him to _get away_ and _be safe._ He'd killed someone; didn't that mean he could kill again?

"Tantei-kun," Kid said softly, stopping roughly a foot in front of him.

Conan squeezed his eyes shut and shook and shook his head violently, feeling the sting of tears start to creep past his eyelids. The gun wavered to the side just as Conan's finger twitched again, another deafening _crack_ resounding into the air. Upon hearing the sound, Conan's eyes flashed open, fearing that he'd shot the thief, that he'd see the man crumpled on the ground, white suit marred by a dark red substance that seeped into the cloth in an ever-growing stain.

But Kid still stood in front of him, in the same position he'd been in before Conan had closed his eyes. There was a new hole in the green metal of the building's heating unit. Conan's eyes widened again; the path of the bullet had taken it less than an inch away from Kid's leg.

"Tantei-kun," the thief said again, his voice still surprisingly calm, though his eyes were solemn. He stepped closer and crouched down, the gun now level with his chest. Conan felt a swell of panic at that, but then Kid's hands were on his, gently prying the gun from his grip.

Finally, he seemed able to control himself as he let the thief take the weapon. His hands swung limply to his sides before he appeared to lose whatever was holding him up, and he toppled forward, aware only of a strong white arm catching and supporting him before his consciousness abandoned him.

* * *

**This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, so please be kind when/if reviewing? Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Silence  
Author: splishims  
Fandom: Detective Conan

**Chapter 2**

Character(s): Conan/Kudo Shinichi, Kuroba Kaito/Kaitou Kid, Konosuke Jii (though his name isn't mentioned)  
Word Count: 1,136  
Warnings: Umm, mentions of death and killing?  
Disclaimer: I only own Detective Conan in my dreams…

**A/N:** After reading some reviews, and a few pointers from some other friends who read my story, I've changed the amount of time Conan is unconscious to something that's hopefully more realistic. And thanks to all who reviewed these chapters, with the encouragement and tips and all. They're so helpful and motivational. ^^

---

He was aware of sound first, a constant, low _beep_ and an even softer _whirring_ from some machine nearby. _Where?_ His mind asked as he tried to open his eyes, only to discover his eyelids were too heavy. _What?_ Trying harder now, he managed to pry them open a slit, wincing at the painfully bright light before clenching them shut again.

Conan lifted his right arm experimentally, gasping when pain erupted in his shoulder. _What the?_ Only then did he become aware of the pain in his thigh and the dull ache in his abdomen. Oh yeah, he'd been shot. More than once. Gin had… _Gin?!_ His eyes shot open, filled with panic. _Can't stay here, Gin knows who I am, he'll—_ Conan froze, unable to breathe as the memories came back to him in a flash. _Oh God, I- I… Gin… I killed…_

_Concentrate,_ part of his mind hissed. _Where are you?_ He knew he wasn't in his room or a hospital, nor was he in any of Agasa's rooms. But the rest of his focus was drawn by one word, whispering insidiously through his subconscious, hateful and accusatory. _Murderer._ That was what he was now, wasn't it? He'd killed Gin, and had at least nearly shot Kid, when all the thief had been trying to do was help. _I didn't mean to…_ But that didn't matter. It was done, _he_ had done it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Ah, I see you're awake," a soft voice tugged him out of his thoughts as its owner made his way to the bedside, glancing at something out of Conan's sight. "You've been unconscious for roughly two weeks."

Conan's eyes widened as his breathing again got shallower. Two weeks? Was everyone okay? Did the Organization kill them? Did they find Haibara? Or did she and Agasa disappear when Conan had failed to return home?

"Breathe, child." It was the soft voice again, owned by an older man currently pressing a few buttons on a cell phone. He finally snapped the phone shut and turned fully to Conan. "I assure you, you're safe here."

Conan blinked once and sighed. Whether he was truly safe or not, there wasn't much he could do about it, and he was still tired. The heavy weight was still tugging on his eyelids and consciousness alike. His eyes closed and the world faded away, replaced by pitch blackness, thick and clogging.

--

He was standing in a large tent, blankets and cloth draped gracefully, framing a large ornate mirror. Violet smoke drifted at eye level, swirling and spiraling lazily through the air, giving the situation a surreal quality. Conan made his way to the mirror and gazed at the reflective surface, expecting it to show his current reflection. Instead, it showed Kudou Shinichi, the way he was before that night at Tropical Land. Then his reflection darkened into a nameless shadow and changed, becoming smaller as he watched. Finally the shadow turned into his current image, one Edogawa Conan. He blinked as the shadow shifted again, turning dark and morphing into something taller before it became recognizable once more.

Conan stared in horror at the reflection. Gin stared back at him, green killer's eyes cold in apathy. Experimentally, Conan spread his arms. Gin did the same. He let his hands fall back to his sides and blinked, the movements mirrored by the psychopathic killer's image. Panic rising, Conan touched the mirror, fingers meeting glass where Gin's fingers should be.

Shaking, heart pounding furiously in his chest, Conan opened his mouth in a silent scream, the tent and stretched fabric melting around him, fading back into that horrible darkness.

--

"Tantei-kun! Tantei-kun, wake up!"

He knew that voice, though he wasn't used to it sounding so alarmed. Blue eyes shot open in panic and darted around frantically, blearily taking in their fuzzy surroundings. There was a strong hand on his good shoulder, white-gloved fingers gripping tight. Conan blinked, struggling to get his erratic breathing under control as his vision gained focus.

"You were having a nightmare." Kaitou Kid stood to his left side in full regalia, holding firmly onto his shoulder. Recognition flickered through Conan's eyes, followed by an overwhelming guilt when he remembered that he'd almost shot the thief. He lowered his gaze, unable to look at Kid without seeing the gun aimed at the thief, finger tightening on the trigger…

"Snap out of it, Tantei-kun. It's all right."

Conan's head whipped up, staring incredulously at the thief. "Just _how_ is _anything_ all right?" he hissed, voice barely a whisper, not caring whether Kid heard him. He blinked suddenly, startled by the bitterness lacing his tone. He was lashing out at the thief _again,_ only this time there was no loaded gun in his shaking grasp. _Thank God for that,_ he thought with a shudder, images of the gun trained on the white-clad figure, held by _his_ hands, _his_ finger closing on the trigger, the explosion of sound…

His breath came in shallow gasps and he tried to curl his small, trembling form into a ball, only to stop when pain shot through his shoulder and thigh, white-hot and ice-cold at the same time.

Kid gently pressed on his left shoulder, helping to ease him back to the mattress. "Now, my assistant says it's best for you not to move much, since you're still recovering. You were shot multiple times, you know."

"Really?" Conan asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't have guessed, not that I actually _remember_ it happening." He felt a pang of guilt at the acid in his voice, but shrugged it off. He didn't feel like being particularly kind to anyone right that moment.

"Come on, you could at least _act_ considerate. My assistant has spent a lot of time taking care of you." The thief paused. "Wonder where he got off to, anyway…"

Conan listened to Kid trail off, stubbornly keeping his mouth shut and staring at the wall. "Sorry," he mumbled finally, still avoiding Kid's gaze. He took a deep, shuddering breath and held it for a moment before letting it all out in the same shuddering manner. "I… I guess I'm still a little… shaken up." _What an understatement,_ part of his mind, the same part that called him a murderer, murmured snidely. _Next you'll be calling Kid a _normal_ thief._

Kid nodded. "Well, you've got time to figure things out; you'll be stuck in that bed for at least another month, depending on how your wounds heal." A comforting smile, the first since Conan had woken up in a panic, and Kid left the room, poking his head back in a second later. "How about I get you some lunch? You can eat while I update you as to what's been going on while you were unconscious."


End file.
